Picture It:

It's a weekend night. You're out with some friends. You're waiting in line to get into a club. It's already 1:30, and you've been to three other bars, none of which were very fun. It's not warm outside in this line. One of your friends starts saying, very loudly, how your group should get to cut in line because, "WE'RE PRETTIER THAN EVERYONE IN THIS LINE!" Basically, you're embarrassed and try to hide your face, lest anyone should think you were the one to say that or, worse, should see you and think: um, no you're not. Needless to say, the repetition of these humble remarks continues and does not produce the desired effect; you continue to wait in line with everyone else. You're still recovering from the embarrassment of your friend's remarks, when you notice your other friend on her cell. You notice her because she is speaking in an even LOUDER voice. She says into the phone, "Where are you? I wanna fuck." Oh...dear...godddd. You pull up your collar and try to sink beneath it as ALL of the guys in the line turn to look. Your two friends laugh. You shudder. The next thing you know, you feel something cold and wet drench the back of your leg. You turn around. Some Mensa candidate is sprawled out at your feet with a half-empty beer bottle in his hand. As much as you don't love Bud Light, you give him a dirty look and shun apologies from guys in the back of the line, who swear they don't know where the moron came from. Somebody suggests he jumped off the balcony of the smoking area behind you, but you know he was running to introduce himself to your...needy friend, and you silently curse the fact that the bar won't close until 3am.